The Bittersweet
by Hijacked Pelican
Summary: A smile of delight, a pleasant one free of pity, plays familiarly on his lips; oh, how he loves the glorious bittersweet bloodshed. Snow's POV.


**Author's Note: **G'day mates. Hows the weather where you're at? Everything all find and dandy? Good. Well, Snow, being the evil antagonist he is, has always been one of my favourite characters. I've always wondered what goes on in his twisted mind, how the gears work, and this story here is my interpretation of just that. Part 1 will be everything that goes on before the 74th Hunger Games; just little things here and there that have led to who we know as Snow today. The story will follow Snow through to his death in Mockingbird. Enjoy. (:

**Part 1**

**Chapter 1 – Feisty Sevens**

I hold the jar a respectable distance from my face, delighted at the sight of the preserved human's tongue sitting cosily within it. Another avox. A delightful smirk plays across my lips at the thought. When one controls the world, the world becomes one's self. I have everything just sitting at the tip of my fingers, all these people twirled around each one, oblivious. Oh, how easy it is to manipulate; to hold the world of Panem in my hands.

"President Snow?" a timid yet pleasantly sweet female voice calls from behind me. Taking my time, I swivel around in my chair, slowly, questioning her with a raised eyebrow. Standing before me is Nadie Raysoph, my well-appointed secretary, her elongated mauve hair swishing with a swift wave from side to side as she nears me. An anxious look is evident in her features; a frown instantly contorts mine.

"What is the problem, Nadie?" I say, absentmindedly twirling the rose on my desk between my fingers, letting the sweet-enriched scent waft up to my nose.

I like Nadie; she is far better than my last secretary, who now lives as part of our mute avox community. At least Nadie doesn't stutter and gets straight to the point. Choosing her words carefully, she says softly, "Miss Mason has kindly rejected your offer."

I smile; life just gets so much better when people go against me, adds some excitement. "Oh, our dearest friend Johanna Mason from district seven?" I say, mock horror masked by delight in my tone. "Could you please remind her of the consequences if she says no?"

"I already have, Mr. President," Nadie states, "but she still declined."

My tone is serious now, all mockery gone from my voice, "Organise my quarters in the train. Looks like I'll be paying district seven a jolly visit."

* * *

><p>The train ride is oddly pleasant, the sweet scent of roses filling the cabin around me. Easily enough, I spend the entire ride anticipating my meeting. Two of the things I love in this world are when people say no to me and catching others off-guard. I would be doing both now. People like Miss Mason fascinate me; they have the courage to stand up against me, be all high-and-mighty and defiant, but when it comes to the consequences, they still are unsuspecting, having to think twice.<p>

The Victor's Village of district seven is quiet, a veil of eeriness draped over. The night is a silent one, bearing a beautiful full moon. I pass Birch's house, a less recent Victor, and think back to the time we held an equally similar conversation in his living room. A smile grows on my face. Easily finding my way to the Mason household, my bodyguards are quick to follow, I knock on the door. I step back as the door swings widely open to reveal a young boy welcoming me. He is of small stature and frame, but has a mature glint in his eyes. He is twelve-year-old Rory – if my records are correct – the boy who is just oh-so unfortunate to be the brother of Johanna. His future well-being depends on Miss Mason's choice of words when I see her soon.

"Mum!" he yells over his shoulder without even as much as a _hello _towards me, "It's the President!"

"What? That's outrageous," starts an appalled voice, followed by a tall, slender woman. She is quite beautiful, I must admit, and it is clear that her genes are not at fault for Johanna's average appearance, but the father. The rest of her words come out in an awkward stutter, obviously shocked at my unannounced appearance. She stands there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, when she finally comes to terms with who I am, "Oh, good evening President Snow. . .err, would you like to come in?"

"Yes, I would, thank you," I nod, making my way into the Mason's home, beckoning my guards to follow with a subtle gesture of my hand. What an ugly home, I think, despite it being from the Victor's Village. Violet curtains, yellow table linen? These people have no taste. "And I would appreciate it if I could please speak with your daughter."

She hesitates for a second, taken aback yet again. "You se-see," she stutters, "Johanna is asleep; she's very ill and it's best not to wake her." Of course she would be ill – my offer raised heavily over her; her families' safety; the oncoming of winter. What is there stopping her from falling ill? It's not as if she has any potentially life-threatening distractions going on at the moment. Note the heavy sarcasm.

I glare deeply at this woman, an inner smile of delight warming me as I catch the whimper in her eyes. "I can only be polite for so long. Miss Mason needs to meet me and talk _now_." She hesitates for a moment, catching onto the threatening glare I give her, and then quickly makes her way down the hall and out of sight.

What a petty little district this is, I think to myself, peering out the window and the run-down town. These people should know how to care for themselves. Have they ever heard of grounds keeping? My people pay the council here a respectable amount and they obviously just abuse the cash rather than spend it on the district. No matter for me though, for the worse off these people are, the more it reminds them that I am in control. Which is all for the better.

"Snow."

I turn to the voice, startled out of my thoughts. Standing before me is Johanna herself, chin up high as if without a care in the world. Her hair is ruffled messily down her back as if she just got out of bed, but her eyes hold a bright determination within them. "Evening Johanna," I say, giving off a hint of sarcasm, "Nice of you to finally make an appearance."

"The pleasures all mine," she says cheerily, but with an icy glare.

"Would you care for me to repeat the consequences if you decide to reject my offer?"

"I'd rather not be your own personal slut, but thank you for the kind opportunity, President fuck." She spits out the last word with a threat implied, but it's an empty one. Johanna can call me whatever name she wants, though it won't help her one bit. As the saying goes, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

"Shame," I say purposely sincerely, "I'd hate to see any of your lovely family hurt."

It is plainly obvious she is holding back from attacking me right now and here. Little does she know I have instant security everywhere; a bullet would be sunk into her brain before she could even get a whiff of my hair. "If you lay a finger on my family I am going to hack through every single bone, muscle and vein in your body before you even take a second glance," she says.

I can't help but laugh aloud at that ridiculous threat. Who does she think I am? I'm not someone who can be easily touched. Even my wealthy enemies in the Capitol have a hard enough time getting to me. "Too bad," I say with a slight smirk, "Because who ever said that _I _was the one doing the dirty work?" I pause, giving her time to contemplate the decision, "It would be such a pity for a terrible accident to happen. And you're poor little brother; it'd be a shame if he got hurt. So much youth in those timid eyes."

She stands there, mouth open gaping, lost for witty comebacks. I assume she is rethinking her decision but it is too late now. What a stupid child, this Johanna is. And it is the stupidity of others that furthers my reign over Panem. A big thank you is what I owe to all the stupid inferiors out there. I turn, heading back out the door, and just as it shuts behind me I say over my shoulder, "I'll take that as a sincere rejection to the offer. It was pleasant meeting with you Miss Mason." And then I'm off, back to the Capitol.

Oh, how I love blood. And some blood is definitely going to be shed soon.

* * *

><p>"Grandfather?" The barely audible whisper, undoubtedly female, floats across the room from a parting crack in the door.<p>

"Yes, Siera, what is it?" I reply as my youngest granddaughter of nine years makes her way across my quarters gracefully, fluttering like a butterfly. Like a butterfly who has a lot to learn. Like a butterfly that could kill.

She stands a metre from the chair I sit, a closed book placed on my lap. "How was your trip to district seven?" Siera asks, sitting on my lap upon my gestured welcome.

"The usual," I reply. "You know how those sevens are – always feisty. Quite an entertaining bunch, really. They always spark up the Games with their axe-weilding. Oh, and you saw that Mason girl hunting everyone down a few months back. Quite a fun Games that was – we made a fair amount of money."

"I love the Games. Daddy thinks they're stupid – in fact, he thinks they're blatantly ridiculous, but I love them; all the entertainment and bloodshed. One day, Grandpa, I want to be just like you."

She hugs me tightly and I take no hesitation in reply. I must admit, I do love her. Shocking, but true. Although in public I have standards to keep and a reputation to uphold. Such displays of affection are only done in the privacy of our home. "And one day, Seira, you will," I say with the utmost confidence in my words. "You will rule this country with just as good leadership as myself, or maybe you'll grow into an even far better leader."

Seira's smile brightens further into a grin and she continues, "Thank you Grandpa, you are always so supportive of me." She pauses, lost in thought for a moment, "Anyways, what was your business in Seven?"

"You really would like to know, darling?" I ask, wondering what the effect of what I could say would be on her innocence.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would. And if it helps me grow into a better leader, then go ahead."

She needs to learn eventually; if she is going to follow in my footsteps, then she needs to understand the dire cruelty one needs to behold as a leader of such a country as this. "Well then," I say with a smile, "I should just as well tell you. My visit was to the Mason family, in particular, our Victor for our most recent Games."

"Johanna? She was so awesome. Literally, nobody thought she would win, but that strategy of hers just blew our minds away – pretending to be weak."

"Yes, she is quite the axe thrower, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but why did you go to see her?"

"Simply informing her of the gruesome consequences if she declined my offer."

"And did she decline?"

"Yes."

"Well, what are the consequences?" she asks softly, her young curiosity reminding me of myself.

"Child," I say, "you will find out soon enough, just wait until you're older, then I will teach you all I know."


End file.
